Jethro woke up the next morning, reeling a bit from the upcoming desert vacation, but got out of bed, had a quick shower, and got ready to leave.

Having already mostly packed the night before, Jethro rather unceremoniously dawned a pair of woodland-camouflage trousers, a tan webbed rigger's belt, a white crew-neck t-shirt, and threw on a white long-sleeve collared shirt. The veteran agent also decided to wear a tan NCIS cap as well as his favourite desert scarf. A dark green one. He then dawned his combat boots as well as his hip and thigh holsters.

He'd packed his clothes, modular tactical vest and helmet, along with a couple of other things the night before, so he just had to pack toiletries and he was ready to go. That was before sitting down for a movie and popcorn night and allowed Jethro to not be in quite a rush this morning. That left him with a bit more time to spend with his wife.

Thankfully, his flight didn't leave quite as early as it had the last time he shipped out.

Taking advantage of the little time he did have remaining, he had breakfast and a cup of coffee while conversing with his wife.

By 0600 though, Jethro really had to hit the road if he was going to make it to Marine Corps Air Facility Quantico to catch his flight on time.

He said his goodbyes to his wife then and then tossed his vest and helmet beside his old USMC pack on the passenger seat of his pickup, Once everything was loaded into the front of his truck, Jethro turned back to Shannon.

She pulled him in close, a tremulous smile playing on her lips. The pair locked eyes, a sea of emotions swirling in his wife's baby blues. "Say it, Marine."

"We've said it all before," he replied gently.

She put both hands on his chest. "I want to hear it again."

"I will take care," Jethro said, not about to deny his wife the reassurance and, frankly, needing to say the words himself. "I will come back safe."

"Not those words," she replied.

Jethro gave the redhead an affectionate smile. "I love you." With that, he pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss. His body curved against hers, their hands splaying against each other's backs as they both melted into the contact.

He took in the sent of the Strawberry and Sweet Mint shampoo he'd come to associate with the redhead, warmth blossoming in Jethro's chest as he did so. It took everything in him to pull back from the kiss.

Shannon made a corny joke to cut the tension they were both feeling, causing him to laugh in earnest. Smiling more warmly, the redhead moved on in for a bearhug. "Your laugh is one of my favourite sounds."

Jethro gently kissed his wife on the forehead, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Letting go a short moment later, Jethro shot his wife another reassuring smile before finally hopping into the driver's seat of his truck and putting the keys into the ignition. It was really time for him to go or he'd be late.

Shannon, a watery smile on her face, was waving standing goodbye in the driveway as he finally drove off. Looking in one of the truck windows, he dolefully watched his wife recede as the distance between him and the house increased, hoping that he wouldn't be gone for very long and that he would be able to keep his earlier promise to her.

Putting some older country music on to break up the dead silence in his truck, Jethro began the forty-five-minute drive down to MCAF Quantico and boarded a C-130 cargo plane alongside McGee, settling into the canvas seats as they finally took off.

It was a long flight. He and McGee finally landed at Kabul Airport just after 0815 local time on Saturday morning. They were on route to Camp Russell, with the new Marine detachment that just arrived, when the group managed to find themselves in a rather precarious situation. That wasn't exactly surprising given where they were.

"Incoming!" Lieutenant Williams called out over the comms.

The warning shout and the sound of heavy gunfire registered simultaneously, McGee returned fire while Jethro drove, trying to get them out of the area.

Then a sound that Jethro instantly recognized as that of an RPG registered, too late for him to do anything more than slam the brakes on the humvee. Jethro glanced over at McGee in the seat beside him in time to see the window explode, flying glass rupturing inward. The damn RPG narrowly missed them, but several bullets had made it through the passenger side window.

Taking a deep breath, Jethro tried to focus on his driving and getting them both out of there. Unfortunately, they didn't get far before the humvee beside them drove over an IED, causing the humvee to swerve into them. The collision caused Jethro to be blown back roughly and hit his head, the veteran agent instantly feeling extremely dizzy and as though he was going to be sick at any minute. "Shit."

He heard a groan come from beside him. "Boss."

Jethro tried to focus on McGee, to see how the younger agent, a mere foot away, was fairing and was relieved to see that at first glance he didn't seem to have any overly serious injuries. "You okay, Tim?"

"Yeah," McGee said. "I think so. Just a few scrapes and bruises."

"Good." Jethro didn't have long to ponder that stoke of luck though before he realized that the insurgents would likely be there any moment to deal with the survivors. They would be dragged through the streets. If they were going to have any hope of getting home, they needed to exfil. ASAP. "We gotta get outta here."

"That sounds like a great idea," the younger agent quickly agreed.

His head was pounding, he could taste the metallic hint of blood coming from his split lip, and his right shoulder was aching. Taking stock of the rest of his body, aside from stiffness and mild pain throughout, Jethro felt no major injuries; besides the obvious concussion that he'd received when he hit his head.

Still feeling quite disoriented, Jethro tried to focus on the task at hand, pulling himself together enough to fire a kill shot at two insurgents approaching and follow the other humvees rushing out of there.

Jethro didn't relax whatsoever until both he and McGee were well inside the borders, such as they were, of Camp Russell and were approached by someone who given the pair of stars on his shoulders was likely the CG of the camp.

Bodies still feeling quite stiff and sore, Jethro and McGee got out of the now bullet-hole riddled humvee and walked up to the man.

"Agents Gibbs and McGee," the man greeted them, offering his hand as he spoke. "I'm General Whitworth. CG of Camp Russell." Jethro gave a curt nod. "I've been briefed on the earlier ambush. One of our corpsmen is in the field hospital -" The general used his left hand to indicate the location of the aforementioned medical tent. "- standing by to make sure you're both alright. Once cleared, you'll be shown to your quarters."

Jethro smiled, dipping his head slightly. "Appreciated, General."

"Thank you," McGee added.

General Whitworth gave a curt nod. "Of course. I'm just glad that you two managed to make it to camp safely. We've lost a lot of good people as of late."

He gave a little snort. "Embrace the suck."

The general gave him a wry smile. "Oorah."

This was going to be one hell of a stay. He just hoped that morning was the last of the action they were going to be party to while they were here.